To the Wind
by Kirasel
Summary: Reincarnated!Ron. Ron lives. He dies. And somehow, he lives again. Only it's not him this time, it's not the Wizarding World, it's not magic, and he wishes things weren't this complicated.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter.

This is marked angst because I imagine quite a bit of it will be angsty. There will be less angst later on, but for now, angst. This will also be kind of slow-paced. Something you should know.

* * *

When he died –

When.

He never thought that he'd really die. Sure, he considered it a few times, but never as a real possibility. Only as an _if. _Never _when, _because _when _was too painful to bear. But he's laughing so hard he's crying because he is dead. He is completely and utterly dead. He has no idea how it happened – just a vague recollection of standing in front of Hermione, and then…. nothing. Light would be preferable, but darkness, he could handle. But nothing was a gray blur in his mind that no matter what he did, he couldn't remember. Nothing. Just nothing.

Nothing is _terrifying. _Nothing means you're unsure of yourself and you have no idea what's wrong or right. And even being thrown in the pit of hell is better than the desperate anxiety of uncertainty. Knowing that _something _happened but _you have absolutely no idea what. _Ron thinks that's kind of scary.

(Of course, he's not afraid, of course not – he's a Gryffindor, after all, and that only thing that deserved fear was _spiders_.)

It's painful, so painful – You-Know-Who was dead, the battle was supposed to be over, and then he dies. Why does he die then? Why not earlier? Then he wouldn't have that hope rise up in home only to be crushed into little tiny bits. At least he leaves the world knowing You-Know… aw, hell with it, _V-Voldemort_ – it's a mystery to him how he still can't say the name correctly, since he all but pranced in front of the bastard calling him a git (though it's rather hard to take _anyone _seriously when you keep hearing Peeves sing _Moldyshorts, Moldyshorts, Moldy-Moldy-Voldy!_) – is dead. And Hermione…. well, he'd hoped that Harry would get together with Ginny so they'd be good as brothers, but he'd always had this nagging feeling that Mione always liked Harry better. Maybe he's wrong and Hermione really did care about him, maybe he's right and she'd always wanted to snog Harry, but there's no way to prove either one (at least, if he was right, Hermione wouldn't be hurt he's hurt her too many times he will not hurt her again) since he's _dead._

…Dead.

He really is, isn't he…?

_._

He catches one flash of blond.

Then back to nothing.

He screams.

No one listens.

.

He's figured it out. He's figured it out and he knows the answer but no one cares because _god _they're all gone. All gone and he has no idea where and there are tears streaming down his face again. He cries too much, but that's okay for right now. No body looks wrong at a baby who cries. Because that's what he is now, isn't he?

Isn't he?

Isn't this impossible?

_Anything can be done with magic._

.

The other children are told not to play with him. Maybe he's a little grateful to be left alone for a little maybe maybe _maybe _Harry Ginny Mum Hermione Fred George Charlie Bill Percy they're all gone even lavender and dean and seamus they're all gone and there's no one left except children that he can't even talk to its sad its sad theyre all gone hes all alone all _alone –_

He's never been so alone in his life.

.

He looks at himself in the mirror and swallows nervously at the unfamiliar image. "My name," he says, his tongue still clumsy in his mouth so the words come out every so slightly _warped_, "is Ron Weasley." He's figured it out. He's figured it out so much so that he starts crying. Fortunately, nobody looks wrong at a baby who cries.

Everything is wrong. Wrong, it's completely wrong. The weather isn't right, the buildings are shaped weirdly, and there are four faces that tower above him. The language is even mixed up – he's not the best, but he can't even come close to recognizing the name. His head is fuzzy and he's _short _and everything is wrong.

So wrong, that each morning, he has to look at himself in the mirror and tell himself that he _is _himself, that strange boy in the mirror _is _Ron Weasley.

He brings a hand (it isn't shaking) up to his too-round face (_it's not his_), traces the features there. The freckles are nonexistent, replaced with tanned skin. The nose isn't long enough. The mouth is too wide. The hair is still bright, but almost _yellow _(not red, not red why not red).Whisker marks (he almost laughs again – he's a weasel now, isn't he?) adorn his cheeks. He clings to the one thing that remains similar about his appearance. At least his eyes are the same. Maybe not the shape (too squinty), but they're blue, and aren't eyes supposed to be windows to the soul?

"My name is Ron Weasley," he repeats, the little boy in the mirror echoing his words. He knows it isn't right. No matter how hard he tries, that little boy will never be Ron Weasley. That face does not belong to Ron Weasley.

He is that little boy.

He will never be Ron Weasley.

He will not cry.

.

They're Muggles. Wizards. Ron can't tell at all. Because sometimes they act so Muggle (_They use eckeltricity, Ron! And plugs! Look here, son, I've got this collection-_), they cook without wands (_Ronald Weasley! Honestly, you cannot peel those potatoes with my wand!_) and do most everything manually like washing up and traveling, but sometimes they do things that even he knowsare impossible without _any _magic. Like jumping to buildings that are ten feet away (Voldemort could fly). Without a wand (Voldemort did it without a wand). What the bloody he -

.

One day he looks back at the mirror and thinks, it doesn't matter, blue eyes staring determinately into blue. Maybe he's different on the outside, but he's still him (_"Ronald Bilius Weasley-!"_). He's still a Chudley Cannons fan (_"-flying with the Cannons!"_). He's still a Gryffindor (bravery, recklessness, all for glory and honor).

(And maybe other changes will happen, but -)

He'll make hell itself freeze over before anything like that changes.

.

Ron's hungry. He's always had an appetite, but now there's always a gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach (he dreams sometimes of roast chicken and blocks of ice cream and pumpkin juice). He knows why. The matron of the orphanage (that's right he's an orphan no family no one) doesn't like him much. She 'forgets' to pack him a lunch sometimes. Not too often. That would be suspicious, and Ron knows that the old man (Hokage?) comes every so often just to make sure things are going along all right. But when she doesn't, the portions are small (not like the portions from Mum and from Hogwarts. no steak and kidney pie. brussel sprouts. ham. treacle tart -). Not enough to starve him. Not enough to make his ribs poke through his tiny body.

That would, again, be suspicious. No, she's subtle about it, and if it weren't so damn _Slytherin_, he would almost applaud her for it. She's smart. Sometimes, there's no rice (rice isn't his favorite, but still) with his lunch. Sometimes, no fish. Other times, they're both overcooked. Even worse are the times where his lunch is actually _burned _but he eats it anyway. He's too hungry not to.

But now, he's wandering around town. The orphanage takes the younger kids on a trip weekly (not the older ones, since they're old enough to take themselves) to see the village. See the faces mounted on the stone mountain (he wonders what they are). He clutches the small amount of pocket money each orphan gets, and looks for _food. _He's sorely tempted by a spinning orange top – he hasn't seen bright colors in _ages _(and the color reminds him of the Chudley Cannons) and the top is a kind of toy that he always sees the other children play with -

.

in a language that's he's not quite sure how to use. Sharp, short sounds. Clear and complete gibberish. But it's not like he could even try to come to them anyway. They all –

.

Nobody likes him anymore. Maybe nobody liked him before, but if they did, at least they were discreet about it. At least they didn't go up to his face and scream at him for existing. Sure, he might not be the most likeable person ever – Ron's not stupid, he knows that much – but Ron didn't think he was that bad. He wasn't that bad.

But the people here think so, and (even the nice old man – who vaguely reminds him of Dumbledore – thinks so. he doesn't say it, he speaks nicely and gives Ron treats but there's a hard glint in his eye when he smiles) they yell at him in a language he barely understands and he apologizes in rough broken words as he runs away. They come after him sometimes (to his relief, it's only the drunk ones. To his horror, it's only the drunk ones – the ones who have no restraint whatsoever). Ron doesn't know why – he's only three in this world. Only three, and what could a three year old do, anyway? He tries to fight back once (and that was completely _mental _but it's not like he ever claimed to be smart), swinging his fists wildly, and ends up dragging himself back with a black eye, a bruised back (a bruised everywhere, actually, but he's not going to say he can't handle it – he's a Gryffindor, there's no way he'll complain about that), and a dislocated shoulder (was it broken? he can never tell the difference anyway). His legs are too short (he's too short) and he can't run as fast as he used to, so Ron learns there's no use in complaining or crying or pouting or else they get _angry._

Angry people aren't peaceful people.

Ron learns to smile or else.

.

The demon boy. The damned brat. Hellspawn. Freak (_Harry smiles halfheartedly._ _"Yes, that's their name for me," and Ron thinks he knows what it's like_). He's been called all that and more, and for the life of him, he can't figure out why. He's been cheerful (and being cheerful hurts so much but he's not allowed to do anything else) and agreeable and polite but they still don't like him. He doesn't understand and he'll probably never understand, but they give him another name too and he's fairly certain it's the one that belongs to this body.

"My name," he says slowly, rolling the strange syllables in his mouth, careful to say them all out correctly, "is Uzumaki Naruto."

He doesn't believe it.

.

There's a strange feeling somewhere in his torso. It's a type of energy, and when it's a really bad day, Ron reaches for it and he's instantly more warm and comfortable (memories of Harry, of Hermione, of the idea of _family_) than he's been for this entire life. But he can never grasp it for long and the feelings quickly drain away. Sometimes, it makes his day even _worse _as it returns back to cold and cruel, knowing that it could have been – it would have been – him feeling like that all the time instead of for only a precious few seconds.

It's been a bad day. He gets no food today, not even burnt. It's been raining, and he has no other clothing. A few drunk (Firewhisky, Firewhisky, he wishes that he could have even a little sip right now to burn down his throat) men chase him. He returns (the matron pretends not to see him dripping and shivering) to find that he's been kicked out of his bunk to accommodate a new orphan and put on a small cot (futon?) on the ground. There are no blankets. He's cold, he's hungry, and he's wet and he curls up in a ball (he misses butterbeer), grasping that feeling like he always does.

It goes away quickly.

But he is Ron Weasley.

He will go on without it.

.

- he turns away. He's already been turned down by maybe half the food stands around. He doesn't know why. But there's no point in wondering, since he'll probably never find out.

He smells something good and his head snaps up hopefully. He half-trudges, half-runs, following the scent (like a weasel, he'd laugh if he could if it didn't hurt), traveling around the stands he's already visited before he almost crashes into another one. He hasn't been to that one yet, but this time (sod being polite) – he scrambles onto the too tall stool – he's not leaving until they bodily drag him out.

The owner of the stand is an old man (not as old as The old man, who he thinks is someone), whose smile falters at the sight at him. It recovers, and there's a quick, somewhat cheerful sentence spat out at him. He thinks – he hopes – it's a greeting, and he tries to smile in return and orders _something _(at this point he doesn't care what since _they haven't kicked him out yet _the relief is getting to him), saying random words that he hopes have at least something to do with food.

The old man smiles and pushes a large, steaming bowl toward him. He stares at it in disbelief. Noodles. Soup. Eggs. Green onions. Meat. A bowl bigger than his head (_"Hello-!" "-Darling mum-" "Of ours! So," "-let's - " "have another -" "-we're famished, really"_). He awkwardly picks up the chopsticks.

This is more food than he's ever had in this entire life.

And it smells _delicious._

He splatters broth and drops a few of the noodles (_"Ron! Honestly. Don't you have any manners?"_), but it's all swiftly devoured. He pushes the entirety of the money he brings into the old man's hand because even though he's still hungry, _thankyou _for giving him food and actually letting him sit and _eat _for once.

The old man frowns, says something that's still too complicated for him to understand. And pushes another bowl toward him. His eyes grow wide and he stutters something that sounds kind of like a thank you.

He finishes off five bowls before he leaves and he's completely full for the first time in his life.

.

Ron combines it with his daily ritual. Looks himself in the mirror. Notes the blond hair and tanned skin, before he repeats the name. "Uzumaki Naruto." Uzu. Maki. Naruto. Hmm. "I am Uzumaki Naruto." To be very honest, it sounds kind of funny to him. Though he really shouldn't be talking about that, considering that he considered pretty much everyone's name to be odd. There was no good, solid 'John' or 'Ann'. There wasn't even the pureblood's 'Perseus' or 'Sagitta' or 'Animus.' Just strange combinations of sharp, short syllables mashed together.

Like 'Hiroshi'. Or 'Kotatsu.' Or 'Daisuke'. Or 'Naruto.' What kind of name was 'Naruto'? He says it again, and he gets a vague impression of fishcakes and spirals.

…His name means fishcake?

That… that…no, that can't be…

What kind of parents did he have?

.

When Ron thinks he's alone, he walks into the closet, staring. "Up," he says." The orphanage brooms stay woodenly on the floor. Ron knows it's silly (he knows it won't work the brooms aren't charmed to respond), but one little bit of magic – just a little – would make him feel safer, make him feel a little less homesick (depressed). "Up!" he says stubbornly (stubborn, not determined there's a difference). A little bit of wandless magic – a little bit of accidental. Just a little, to know that he _can _still do it and it wasn't all a dream (as _if _it was a dream – anyone who says otherwise can sod off). And maybe he wasn't the best Quidditch player (_"Weasley is our King! And that's why all the Gryffindors sing-"_)_. _But just a little - just a little!

He's been trying this for over two years, and nothing has ever happened.

One of the brooms rises a few inches.

Ron grins.

(_"Aw, ickle Ronniekins! So proud of yourself!"_)

It's a start.

.

Hokage, hokage. The old man was a Hokage, and he got the feeling it was _something _important, but he had no idea what. (He misses Hermione. Hermione would have known what that was. Or at least, would have figured out – she's smart.) What was so great about a Hokage?

He says as much out loud. Not to anyone in particular. That would be stupid (and he's not allowed to be _that _stupid anymore). But of course, this still earns him a cuff on the ear (it stings, but it will barely leave a mark – a very acceptable punishment for a child his age, he thinks wryly). He turns and sees the matron (he could've sworn she wasn't there earlier) with an angry frown on her face. "Show some respect!" she snaps. And just when it seems she's going to go into a tirade, he asks what a Hokage is.

This stops her in her tracks. She stares blankly at him and he stares down at his feet. They're wearing odd, strappy shoes. He wonders what they are. But it doesn't matter. He'll figure out anyway. Anyway? There's a dreadful feeling that's making his head hurt. He shouldn't have asked. He should not have asked. (_"I shouldn't've told ya that. I should not have told ya that!")_ The villagers don't like questions. And if the matron didn't count as a villager, he'd eat his hat (_"I'll eat myself if you find/A smarter hat than me!"_).

"The Hokage is the strongest person in the village." Ron looks up. The matron has a strange look on her face (it almost reminds him of Trelawney) and her voice is almost hesitant. "He is our leader and protector. That's why the faces of all of our Hokages are carved into the mountain. To look over the village. To guard us. To watch over us." She doesn't seem to be looking at him at all anymore. Her eyes are glazed over when she says, "They are our heroes."

"Oh." He thanks her. And he walks away.

Strongest person in the village.

(_"He's the strongest wizard ever!"_)

Protector of all.

(_"That's what he does, right?"_)

Heroes.

(And maybe it's because it reminds him so much of HarryHermioneDumbledoreeveryoneexcepthim, but -)

He thinks he likes the sound of that.

(Why not be the hero for once?)

* * *

A/N:

AAaaargh why am I writing this i have like four other stories i need to update. I know why. It's because of the plot bunnies. Darn you, plot bunnies. And Effloresco Secundus. Which is like this fic, but better and with Hermione. Go ahead, check it out. Plus, I never find any good Ron stories. No love for Ron. So _this. _

Plus, I get to write as a male character. Which is different. YAY DIFFERENT.

I wonder if I'll ever update this?

7/13/13 - I suppose it's obvious that I did.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter.

* * *

"Hey, kaa-san-"

"Shh! It's the brat!"

"…What?"

"_Him."_

"Oh. Him."

"…"

"He… he can't honestly be _it, _right? Look, it's just a little kid…"

"He's got _whiskers. _And look at those eyes – they don't belong to a kid."

"But… he's only, what, three? It's not like he can honestly-"

"We're not permitted to discuss this. Quiet."

"But you just - "

"_Quiet!"_

They don't think he can hear.

He wonders what _it _is.

.

The weekly trip outside the orphanage. It is something that Ron – _Uzumaki -_ looks forward to. Not that he actually needs to wait. No. The guardians at the orphanage don't seem to notice when he slips out (or maybe they just don't care. That's all right – there's a small pang in his chest when he thinks about it, but he's gotten used to that), and they don't check all the time to make sure everyone's there. (Only certain times, and he knows exactly when. This season, it's seven in the morning, one in the afternoon, and eight-thirty at night.)

But these visits are important. As long he stays with the main group of children, no stand can refuse him without looking oh-so-very-much biased against the orphanage. And that just won't do, would it? He knows that as he grows up, they'll be able to do that again. They'll be able to turn him away, and they'll be perfectly justified just in saying that they think he'll cause trouble. After all, he'll be a _teenager, _and teenagers are _obviously _troublemakers, aren't they. (He hears this reasoning in rough whispers behind the cloth hangings – wryly, he thinks that his eavesdropping ability has improved from all the time he spent skulking around with Harry and Hermione.)

His fingers wrap around the worn, second-hand notebook the last shopkeeper practically threw at him. It's not bad. The binding is torn, and the cover's a little cracked, but only a few pages are used. The rest is crinkly, slightly yellowed paper. All clean. All unused. Absolutely perfect. His stub of a pencil is in the other hand (he finds a lot of them near the wastebasket. Nobody complains because he's the only one desperate enough to use them).

He watches the other children run to the playground. What he does is turn around, marching off to the complete opposite direction and sitting on the creaky old swing that none of the others will come near. He opens the book and on the first clean page, writes _Property of Ron Weasley _with a flourish. As an afterthought, he writes _Uzumaki Naruto_ with painstaking slowness and little dashes (that's the only thing he knows how to write in this language).

A moment passes before he scribbles down _Roonil Wazib._ The name is silly and he barely remembers it from sixth year and it's ridiculous.

It makes him smile.

.

Maybe it is impossible, maybe it's silly, but it is worth doing.

.

In the morning, he squints at the mirror, prodding his cheeks.

He scowls. The smile isn't perfect.

Of course he's learned how to (he needs it, and it's better to look like a happy idiot than a kid who looks like he's going to cry to the Hokage because the drunks _will _beat the kid until they're sure he shuts up). The eyes are half-closed, giving the illusion of smile-wrinkles in the corners of his eyes. The mouth is stretched wide, raising his cheeks up and showing off teeth (he debates smiling with his mouth closed, but decides that it looks _really bloody creepy_), but not enough to look like the animal reaction of baring them.

There's still something off about it.

Well, the lack of real happiness was one thing (he misses it). That was obvious enough.

But what part of his face wasn't adjusted _enough_…?

Scratching the back of his head (in a gesture that's only native to _this _body), he yawns and decides that it's good enough_._ He'll get better later.

(He's always been lazy, after all.)

.

One day, he walks to a small patch of ground near the playground, almost in the forest, and picks a bundle of bright, sweet-smelling flowers. Maybe they really are some type of weed. But it doesn't matter. They're pretty, and for now, that's all that's important.

One day, he follows the silver-haired masked man to a stone, carved with names.

_He walks and kicks rocks because there's nothing to do. Or maybe there's everything to do, and he can't figure it out yet. It's a quiet day. It's a bad day. The sun is shining and the children are laughing. It's still a bad day. It doesn't need to be all rain and gloom for bad days. It's a bad day when he thinks and thinks and everything is _useless _and there's no _point _to anything. It's been like this for a while and all hope is lost and the voices of the past echo and echo in his head and he can't do anything about it -!_

_He will do anything._

_There's a silver-haired masked man walking near the orphanage. Hey! Mister, where are you going? (Please take me with you, I don't want to stay here anymore, please - !) Pain and loss in a single eye. It's gone before he can think, and the eye crinkles when the man answers, "Somewhere special." _

_So he follows the man (he needs something special, I need something special) to a patch of ground, almost in the forest, to a stone, carved with names. He's wondering what they are when the man _looks _at him, and says -_

_"These are the names of our heroes."_

_Ron! Where where where are you I don't know Ron it's all lost all your fault all yours Harry was always my favorite stop I cant_

_The voices of the past echo and echo and echo in his head and he's on his knees in front of the stone how did he get there and those _heroes _it's all his fault all his fault THEY'RE ALL GONE -_

_He doesn't follow the man again._

He follows the man, gives a nod to him. They stay in silence, Ron with his flowers and the man with his book. Then Ron separates the bundle, one by one, stem by stem, leaf by leaf. This one was for Mum. One for Dad. One for Fred…

_it's all his fault_

(One each for the honored dead and those living he is no longer among. One each for those he holds dear that he will never be able to see again.)

(They are all heroes and he will remember them all.)

.

He is Ronald Bilius Weasley, son of Arthur and Molly Weasley, the sixth child in a line of children (_"I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to.")_, all red hair and blue eyes, too-tall, too-gangly, and with big feet. The second of the Golden Trio (a name coined by Draco-bloody-_Malfoy_, but one that he wears proudly, mostly because that is who he is and partly just to say _fuck you, Malfoy_). Quiddich Keeper. Chessplayer (he wonders if they have chess here it's been so _long_). Chudley Cannons fan. Glutton (he still eats entirely too much). Prat (or so Hermione tells –_told -_him). Git (he's done things he's not proud of).

A Gryffindor through and through.

He is also Uzumaki Naruto (he _still _can't figure out if Naruto means fishcake or maelstrom), son of who-knows-who (he'd throw himself off the Hokage tower if it was You-Know-Who), and as far as he knows, the only child. He is the demon boy (a drunk man mutters this under his breath, before being elbowed in the ribs by his companion). The damned brat (now this one, he hears pretty often – it's _safe, _and damned brat isn't a name that's only confined to him, after all). Hellspawn (less often, but still there). Freak (_I'm sorry, Harry_). Blond hair, too-short, too-thin, and he's a bloody _midget. _

Still the same blue eyes.

Still Gryffindor through and through.

And one day, he decides that _yes, _maybe Ron Weasley might be dead (though he'll never stop using the dead man's name), Uzumaki Naruto is not.

And Uzumaki Naruto will be a hero.

He will be Hokage.

(Even if he still doesn't know exactly what a Hokage is.)

.

Living in the orphanage is painful, because looking any orphan in the face is painful.

Liar and hero and madman and chosen one and freak all pelted Harry James Potter's back, but so did _orphan, _and he was always reminded of this sharply when Harry never went home for hols, and when his mother doted on him for being too skinny and Ron's fingers clench into fists because _he knows why _Harry is skinny because he remembers pulling bars from Harry's window one summer.

Glory hound. Gryffindor. Potty. Runt.

_Orphan._

Alone.

(He's being stupid, he tells himself. He's being stupid like always and this is ridiculous – that well-fed boy in the corner is nothing like eleven-year-old Harry Potter. The laughing girl is nothing like Harry.)

Looking any orphan in the face is painful.

(That boy playing with the orphanage toys is nothing like Harry. Harry wore torn and worn clothes too big for his size and scotch-taped lenses and was skinny and runty. No one in the orphanage is like that. Everyone is well-fed and happy. Everyone. He gives a small shake of his head, and the collar of his worn and torn shirt rubs against his neck. Ron doesn't count.

Does he? )

He begins to avoid mirrors when it becomes with sharp, clear clarity that he is one too.

(_"I'm sorry for everything I've ever said to you, Harry. I've… do you think I've made up for it yet? I'm like you now…well, except more people hate me. But I was always a git anyway, right?" _)

.

For Neville, (_"Have you seen Trevor? I wish he could have seen what I just did."_) Ron goes back to that small patch of ground and builds a child's wall of stones and sticks and branches around it. ("_Dumbledore's Army!") _He goes back to that small patch of ground and plants as many seeds as he can find and empties shaky handfuls of water there. _Neville would have done it _and for a moment, Ron thinks that he can see him smile.

(_See, here's the Mimbulus Mimbletonia…_)

.

Reading, Ron decides (no, it's Uzumaki now, isn't it?) is the most annoying thing ever. Next to writing. No. He's wrong. Writing is worse.

(_"You asked for it," the matron snorts, as she slides him a thin booklet and a pencil. She pauses, and grudgingly, she says, "If you need help, come to me." _Can't have any of the orphans not _know _how to read, can we, even if it is the _thrice-damned demon brat. _)

He looks blankly at the children's workbook. He's not entirely sure how he's supposed to do this. At least he knows how to speak the language (very badly, and from the way the adults wince, it might be even worse than he thinks). If he didn't, this would probably be impossible, since he wouldn't be able to associate which word with which and what is he saying it's already impossible. It's full of letters and dashes and marks and he really needs to learn this, but by hell, he doesn't _want _to –

(_"Ron! How could you not be interested? This material is – I've never seen the like! Read it! I swear, you haven't even read Hogwarts, A History yet, have you?")_

(He pretends his throat isn't constricting from that.)

He grumbles and turns the page.

The matron watches him awkwardly, before sighing and sitting down next to him.

.

For Hermione, he takes up reading, throwing himself into it because it is _important, _because he _needs to know, _because maybe he is going mad, but he thinks he can hear her voice, just a little –

_"Ron Weasley? Reading now? Honestly? Really and truly? It's a wonder…"_

.

October 10.

This is an important date (it's strange, because even though all the letters are all messed up, there's still an _April _and _October _and _August_), and he's not entirely sure why. Something happened, he muses, as his short little legs turn around the alley, around the mob of men. They're not normally this aggressive. They don't normally storm him like this. Usually it's only one or two, and he can easily outrun them, since they're normally drunk. These, though. These aren't drunk. Or at least, half of them aren't. Half of them are dead sober and both halves are dead angry and he has no idea _why. _They don't normally hate him _this _much.

Usually, he doesn't venture out of the orphanage on what he deems to be Saturday. Maybe he'll go outside, just for a little air. But most of the day is spent either trying to make brooms float (he's proud to say that he can levitate one six inches off the ground) or sitting next to the matron and hearing her complain about his messy handwriting and his arithmetic and his lack of honorifics. (She is exasperated when Ron accidentally mixes up his numbers and writes two plus two equals five.) Which he doesn't really understand, since it's much simpler just to say a name than it is to attach some weird nickname at the end (he shudders as he remembers Won-Won).

_(He picks purple flowers for Lavender, and he has no idea if she survived the final battle or not.) _

But today he looks out of the windows and sees bright lights and red banners and more laughing children than usual and he wonders what celebration this is. So he ventures out cautiously, a floppy hat covering his blond hair and shadowing his blue eyes and watches tentatively. There are festival stands. Food stands. More stands than he can ever remember, and they're decked out in red and blue and yellow. People are wearing odd, flowery dress-robes, and they're happy and one man smiles at him and hands him candy and a painted mask. Ron says thank you quickly and hurries off before anyone notices who he is.

His bright spot of the week, he thinks wryly as he runs and runs and runs. Because he wasn't careful enough, and just as he watches the fireworks, his hat is blown off. And he is recognized.

And he runs.

(He'll be brilliant at this running thing when he's older, won't he?)

He's lucky this time (he doesn't like thinking about the times he isn't) and slams the door of the orphanage shut and takes a deep breath out.

He's confused when the matron, after some hesitation, hands him a small, little cake, barely the size of his palm.

There's a candle lit in it.

_It's his birthday._

He almost laughs, before… wait…

…How old is he again? Because maybe he was supposed to feel that the years passed by quickly, but they dragged on and on into forever only he knows it's not really forever but he has no idea exactly what the time is.

He asks the matron (she doesn't make him feel too bad for asking questions).

There's an odd look on her face.

He wonders why.

.

"Hey old man!" Ron – _Uzumaki – _says enthusiastically. (Because he pulls up his mask and gives it a name, he forms his persona. Uzumaki is the happy one and Uzumaki is the one who's supposed to be the hero. _Ron _is Ron. Ron is no hero in the making. He's already had his chance. Uzumaki hasn't. Uzumaki could have turned out to be a completely different child than Ron is and when he comes to the stone, he finds bright blue flowers for Uzumaki, the same shade his eyes were and mourns for the child that never was.) Right now, he is Uzumaki and he buries Ron down deep – with some difficulty, because Ron is Ron and he doesn't like pretending to be someone he isn't. It'll get easier when Uzumaki gets older.

Because life has settled in an easy routine, and once routines are there, it's difficult to get out of them.

"Naruto," the old man (_Dumbledore _no its not Dumbledore, it is the Sandaime Hokage and he is Uzumaki but Ron finds lemon-flavored candies for him) says sternly, a reluctant smile curving his lips. Uzumaki wonders, _again, _if he's gotten something wrong, because Naruto is his last name and adults just _don't _call children by their first name. Maybe the order is the other way around? Maybe his first name is Naruto?

Eh, he'll figure out later.

For now, he wrinkles his nose at that pile of paperwork sitting on the wooden desk. "Old man, you've got a lot of homework." Uzumaki pokes at one stack, which wobbles and shivers over the edge of the table. He laughs when the old man shudders, then asks, "What's all that for?"

The old man smiles again. "These are bills. These, a few missions. And this," he flips over one sheet and winces, "is a 'formal complaint. Personally," he leans in close and winks, "I like to call it whining. Don't tell them I said that!"

Uzumaki laughs, then puts on his serious face. "Why d'you gotta deal with that?" he says, sounding innocent and young with little effort, because that's who Uzumaki is (and who Ron isn't). He eyes the paperwork again and gives it another poke.

"It's because I'm the Hokage." And the old man suddenly looks very old and very tired when he says that. Uzumaki doesn't know why. Ron, maybe, but he's not Ron right now. Ron thinks about the burdens a hero has and the grief of losing someone lost and he knows the Sandaime is _old _and he is tired_, _and he's probably a little sick of being the hero so why hasn't anyone taken his place? (The same reason why nobody ever tried to take Dumbledore's place.)

Uzumaki knows the Hokage is a hero. But Uzumaki has no idea _what _this hero does. Is he like (the Headmaster) someone who is in charge and leads? Or is he like (Harry) who is never in charge and only a symbol or banner because of the acts they do? Or is he like (the Minister, who is no hero) only a figurehead to something much more powerful? He puts a confused look on his face and asks, "What's a Hokage?"

"The strongest shinobi in the village." There's an odd, bitter laugh in the old man's voice. Ron thinks he knows why.

Uzumaki doesn't.

So he goes ahead and asks, "What's a shinobi?"

The old man looks at him with the same sort of disbelief the matron does sometimes.

But Uzumaki doesn't know. Uzumaki only smiles and fidgets on the seat in front of the Hokage's desk, demanding to know the answer.

Finally, the old man sighs, putting out the pipe in his mouth, and Ron has a sinking feeling in his stomach that the reply will not be a happy one.

He's probably wrong, Uzumaki tells him. Probably wrong.

Ron hopes he is.

* * *

A/N:

So, I updated and that's amazing, since normally I never update but this time I was actually motivated and did I mention I love you guys, because _man, _I love you guys. I mean, seriously. That's the most reviews I've ever gotten and_thank you so much. _I probably won't reply, unless there's a question in the review, because I don't really PM all that much. Sorry about that.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter.

* * *

Shinobi.

_"Shinobi are the pride of our village."_

Ron lies in bed in the dark of the night and stares blankly at the ceiling.

_"Shinobi are our protectors."_

The Sandaime Hokage is good. He's very good, disguising the truth with the honeyed words and cheerful smiles required for an explanation to child.

_"We will do anything for the good of our village."_

Ron is not bright, but he is not stupid. Not innocent. Not so purely naïve as a child should be. The Hokage tells of illusions and things thought to be impossible without magic like raising earth from the ground and shattering explosions and spraying water (There was once a time where he could do that with a flick of his wand – _fourteen inches, willow, unicorn tail hair, _he recites bitterly). He tells of the strange energy called _chakra _and with a smile, he conjures up a little flame in his hand, lighting his pipe. (There was once a time where he could do that too. _Incendio!_)

And again and again, the words play in his mind. "We are shinobi, and we will do anything for the good of our village."

Ron hears steel under the sugar coating. But no – that can't be right, that honestly can't be _right. _The Hokage – the old man, is just explaining something to him and any of that steel he has is just _imagined,_ because he honestly can't mean _anything. _Just as he finishes doing away with paranoia (it's not paranoia if he's right) and convinces himself that he _is _wrong and there's _nothing _to worry about, the paperwork at the edge of the desk wobbles and falls, scattering paper everywhere. Uzumaki panics and apologizes in the slightly teary way of a kid who thinks he's done something incredibly _wrong_, scooping paper up in large piles, while the old man gives a light laugh and assures Uzumaki there's no need to worry and to leave the papers there. But Ron catches a glance of a few sheets before he hurries out of the Hokage Tower and his blood runs cold.

He may not know _who _Asami Hiro is, or Kurasa Akane or Fukui Katsu or Mizushima Ryo. He may not know what a Daimyo or a Hidden Village is. But he does understand the words _collect bounty _and _target _and _assassination _and _kill _(and the photo of a bright, laughing little child who will be dead by dawn)_. _

Shinobi are killers.

_Again, like a broken recorder: We will do anything for the good of our village._

Murderers.

_Anything._

And suddenly he is reminded -

_"It's for the Greater Good, dear boy. The Greater Good."_

Days of staying in a tent –

Days of fighting, of screaming and shouting and _I'll strangle you, I will -!_

_Traitor! Traitor! He went off and left us all alone! And for what? To fill his stomach? Traitor!_

_I killed him, I killed him -_

_He let Harry die, god he let Harry go off all alone die its all his fault –_

_"For the Greater Good."_

_Anything for the Greater Good._

_Anything for the good of the village._

Bile is rising up in his throat and when he thinks about it, is it really any different?

.

He doesn't know what to do. He has no idea what to do. He had a plan. He _had _a plan. It's not there anymore. Does he honestly want to be Hokage? Does he really want to be Hokage to send people out to die and send people out to kill and murder? Does he even want to be shinobi? Because after all, it's all kill and murder and –

_It can't be too much different from being an Auror, _a traitorous voice inside him whispers. _And you always wanted to be an Auror, didn't you? Too bad you'll never have that chance._

Shut up!

He wants to be a hero.

_And the only way to be a hero is to be a shinobi._

(Harry made this look easy.)

.

Ron goes to the Memorial Stone and stays there the whole day.

("What should I do? What _should I do? _I know you're not here, but just one answer – just one?")

A kid shouldn't have to make decisions like this (and maybe it's a good thing, that the real Uzumaki Naruto wasn't here – another child having to make the choice, not even _knowing for sure _if it was a life-changing decision or not). But then again, he's _not, _is he…?

.

No, he doesn't want to be shinobi (well, that's a simple enough answer. He knows he doesn't want to be one, because the shinobi are part of some twisted fate that he barely understands. That's easy. It's all over, he's made his choice, so why is he -).

.

Yes, he does (of course he does, did he _see _what old man Hokage did? No wand! Completely wandless magic, and it was just as good as it had with a wand – no additional study, in this world, that was the _norm. _If he had magic like that, it'd be brilliant, damn the consequences -).

.

No (what the hell is he thinking, he saw what that sort of thinking did to Voldemort, to the Death Eaters. That power took them and twisted them until they were _different. _Until they were so changed that they would have been barely recognizable from what they used to be – Bellatrix Lestrange used to be sane, wasn't she? Of course he doesn't want -).

.

Yes (when he thinks about it, it really isn't too much different from being an Auror, from what he hears, and he always wanted to be an Auror anyway, so this really cant -)

.

He'll be a killer (he doesn't want to be a killer, he doesn't want to relive war and hate and do it all for _money, _and look at what they're doing – he knows _children _sign up, without any idea of _what _they're signing up for, they just know that they can do pretty tricks and they'll be heroes -).

.

He'll be a hero (if he is shinobi, then he will be given the power to _save _everyone – better that then be useless, _useless –_and look! That power, he needs it, because he would've have lived, he would live, he could protect everyone because how could he just leave it -)

.

He has no idea.

Because he's stupid and indecisive (arggh why couldn't this be easier), he ends up doing this for a week, scribbling furiously in the notebook labeled, "Property of Ron Weasley and Uzumaki Naruto (and Roonil Wazib)." Making lists, pros and cons, trying to figure _something _out (Hermione would be proud – "Why couldn't you have done something like this for the OWLS?").

("Why the _hell_ can't I stick with an answer already?")

.

In the end, what he ends up doing is marching into the Hokage Tower and shouting at the top of his lungs, "Sign me up! I'm going to be Hokage, old man!"

.

It's stupid. He's stupid. This is stupid. It's all completely and utterly stupid. Why does he want to be a hero? Why does he want to save everyone? What, in the end, is the point in it all?

_Least loved, _he hears Tom Riddle whisper in memory. _Always, by the mother who craved a daughter…_That's not true, that's not true!_ Least loved now, by the girl who prefers your friend… _Hermione didn't… _Second best, always, eternally overshadowed…_ And that treacherous voice – _Why not shine? This is why, this is true, all you have to do is -_

No. That is not why. That will never be why. Maybe it is a part, he admits to himself. Maybe he _does _want to step out of the shadows for once and maybe he _does _want some attention every now and then. But for that to be the sole and only reason why he wants to be a hero?

He'd be no hero at all if he believed that (he'd be _Lockhart _if he did, and god forbid that ever happen). He's not changing his mind about shinobi. Ron doesn't like shinobi. Shinobi are murderers. And they remind him of desperate, war-worn Aurors – which _would _be all right if it weren't for the fact that they were mixed with the morals of Dung Fletcher and Death Eaters.

Ron looks at the Academy sign-up sheet with some regret. Behind him, the old man smiles, like he always does, and Ron wonders if his eyes twinkle like Dumbledore's when he's not looking. The voice of Alastor Moody chuckles in his mind._ This is your last chance to back out, boy. _Ron hesitates, the pen (hmm, no quills) held an inch above the paper.

The cheerful voice in his head that is Uzumaki slams his hand down and scrawls down a name with a flourish.

_Constant viligance._

He spins around, happy grin plastered onto his face.

This is not because he wants to be a hero.

This is not because he wants to be shinobi.

(Don't get me wrong, you bastards.)

This is for the children who do not know _what _they will be doing and _what _they so gleefully signed up for. (_the four Hogwarts Houses, together since first year, charging into the Final Battle – they are afraid, but they are together, even the Slytherins, who fight even if they are afraid, because Hogwarts is _theirs and nobody shall take it from them.)

This is for the mothers and fathers who watch their kids march to war (_Flashing green lights, red and black hair - Not my daughter! NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!_). If he becomes the best of them, he will be the leader. If he is the leader, he can _change _that – make it so the children do not become enlisted in the army so _young, _make it so that they do not feel so much at such an age. No one can argue if he's the leader. He'll make things better. He will.

"Congratulations, Naruto-kun," says the benevolent voice of the Sandaime Hokage (not Dumbledore, _he is not Dumbledore_). "You'll be starting in the spring cycle next year."

"That's awesome!" Uzumaki cheers.

.

Ron takes up space at the swing again, like he always does, absent-mindedly moving his legs back and forth, notebook in hand. Idly, he flips through the pages. Messy lists of what to do, how to do them, ideas and failures. He's written a lot. All in English, of course. No one can read English here. That's good. Great, even. Ron has no idea why, but he keeps getting the feeling of being _watched _(and when he thinks about it, he reinforces the Uzumaki persona more – all the better if no one knows Ron)_. _Not at the orphanage. At the orphanage, there is only the vaguest of glances. But anywhere else is the undeniable feeling of eyes constantly on his back. He grips the notebook tightly. He will not let them read this, but if they do – well, it's not like they can actually understand it, right?

Though, really, now that he thinks about it, it'd probably be good if he developed a code of some type. It sounds much like the village shares one language (he's not sure it has a name. After all, if there was only one language, what would be the point of naming them all separately?) but that wouldn't be necessarily true. Maybe there are other languages. And maybe one of them is English. Maybe – maybe – well, it's not like his handwriting is ever _neat. _So, if he made it messier – enough so the letters start mixing and blurring – yes, that might work (especially since sometimes, even _he _can't read his handwriting). That might work very well indeed (if he can't read his handwriting, he doubts anyone else can).

He writes down lists, with a real pencil this time, unused and freshly sharpened. Ron thinks he's been rising in the matron's favor. Though he's still not treated _exactly _like the others (he still wears too-big, worn out clothes, and the matron still doesn't say anything nice to him), the guardians have grudgingly admitted that he's not the worst of the lot – probably since he goes out of his way not to make trouble. He even does chores sometimes (and it confuses them. It even confuses the matron, even though she _has _been acting nicer – he's been getting more food in his lunch, for example). He doesn't splatter himself in mud, or cry loudly, or break anything. He gets along. The most they've ever caught him doing was sweeping the floor (granted, he was actually trying to levitate it, but they didn't know that – one foot off the ground, he thinks proudly. It's one foot off the ground now, _yes!_).

_What to do. _He writes it down and underlines it.

He's done his research (the twelve year olds brag a lot to the younger in the orphanage). The Academy. About four to six years of schooling, if he's correct. Quite good classes – even those who plan to be civilians get sent there, since the education is just as good, if not better than the civilian school. But the thing that's different is the physical class. Yes, he thinks that Shogakko has one, too. But the Academy has the physical class take up more time, and is _much _more extensive.

He's… not good at physical. Being a wizard never really required much of that. Unless you played Quidditch the _traditional_ way – with too-long broomsticks that _didn't _have Cushioning Charms _or _saddles and pads. If you did, you didn't spend time sitting on the broomstick (or at least, you tried very hard not to). You spent time trying to stay on, balancing awkwardly with your legs and leaning forward and doing your best not to fall. He tried it one time on a dare, when he was nine, and his legs were like jelly for _days. _

Playing around with the kids _would _have built some strength, with running around and play-fights, but he doesn't do that much. He tries a few times a week as Uzumaki, since it'd be out-of-character if he didn't, but if it doesn't work, Ron shrugs and sits on his swing (or visits Neville's garden, or goes to the Memorial Stone, or hell, even climbs the Hokage Monument). Ron cares, a little, but not enough to keep repeatedly throwing himself at them. Besides, there wasn't _quite _a lot of appeal in playing games with children and children's toys (especially since he's mentally in his twenties – though now that he thinks about it, _really? _Twenty – he still feels seventeen). Especially if they weren't magical.

He knows he's fast, and can run for a long time. But, as far as he knows, that's about it.

But to be a good shinobi (blegh) he _needs _to be good.

He eyes the ground speculatively and wonders if he can still do a push-up.

A minute later proves he can't.

.

"Hurry up, will you?" the child next in line mutters irritably. Ron grumbles and spits out foam, pulling the toothbrush out of his mouth and pushing past the crowd of children. There are four bathrooms in the orphanage – one for boys, one for girls, and two for pretty much everyone. As always, there's a long, long line an hour before lights out (most to the toilet – the quick ones ask to use the kitchen sink to brush their teeth). At least, kid's lights out. The older children have their own lights out and curfew two hours after Ron does (these are the children who don't school at the orphanage anymore, and are instead sent out to the Academy and Shogakko. The main reason why they're up later is because of homework. Ron sympathizes).

(There are few teenagers at the orphanage. By that age, they've normally either have been adopted or have moved out.)

Slowly, Ron makes his way to his room (he shares it with eleven others), and heads for the bed (his is the bottom bunk in the corner of the room). He pulls out the notebook wedged between the mattress and the wall, and looks over his list.

_WhatoDo_

- _Exercise, you _prat_. 10 pushups, 10 situps. Atleast. Maybe arun? Round thevillage. MaybenTuday. ClimbtheHomonment2. _

- _Redas muchs u ken. H wld wnt u 2._

- _ask thers bout nin-gen-tai tenten?_

- _wtergarden Tues_

- _chakra? lookup?_

He thinks he's finally outdone himself. The writing is sloppy, the words blur and mix, and he thinks that he misspelled you. And to. Several times, in fact.

But he can still read it.

Barely.

If he squints.

(Even then, only _maybe._)

"You're always lookin' at that book," Kenji yawns from the top bunk. "You're so _weird._ What's so good bout a book, anyways?"

Kenji is six years old, and relatively new to the orphanage. So Kenji hasn't heard anything about the demon child (or maybe he thinks that it's a stupid rumor – Uzumaki's never asked), and takes the empty bunk that no one else wants. Ron doesn't think Kenji sees _why _it's empty. Especially since it's a top bunk. The children love the top bunks. Something to do with climbing ladders.

"Shut up," Ron mutters under his breath, because even though Kenji doesn't hate him, there's still _something _annoying about him. That, and being Uzumaki all the time is tiring. Uzumaki is cheerful and hyperactive and energetic and it's hard to keep that up. So he's Ron at night and around the matron, since the being-too-serious can be excused by sleepiness and the attempt to learn things.

Kenji hears him and snorts. "Man, you're touchy, aintcha?" he says, rolling over. "Y'know, I don' get it. You're all friendly when we go outside, and then I talk to you here and you're _grouchy. _Wassup with that?"

Ron mumbles a vague grunt. "Trying to sleep here."

"You wouldn' be so grumpy if y' napped more."

"Shut up, Kenji."

"Tch! All right, all right."

"Good."

"…_Touchy_."

Ron scowls.

.

"Oi – you're… Tenten?"

Ron really doesn't want to do this, but he _needs _to get good, and he'd rather not wait. He'll ask a few other Academy students at the orphanage to show some tips – and even though they're uncomfortable around him, they probably will, they're normally so eager to show off. Especially to an _adoring _little kid. But this girl…

There is a girl, with her hair up in buns (he personally thinks it looks kind of stupid, but there's no way he's telling her that) polishing a handful of odd, sharp knifes with a rag. She looks at him suspiciously, eyes narrowed and hugging the weapons to her chest. Of course she would. This was the weekly trip outside of the orphanage, and she had taken a confusing series of twists and turns to reach where she was now. Ron should know, he followed her. And… was apparently quiet enough to sneak up on her. Yeah, he could see why she'd be suspicious.

"Yeah? What's it to you?" She looks a lot like she wants to throw those knifes – kunai – at him.

He swallows nervously, but continues. "You're the girl that holds the Academy's accuracy record, right?"

Immediately, her expression changes – brightens up, but looks almost self conscious. "Um – no, it's – it's just in my class," she says haltingly, with an awkward expression in her face. "And it's – I'm in a first year class, so I'm not really that great compared to -"

"No way!" Uzumaki exclaims, pointing an accusing finger at her. "You did that _thing _last week – you hit every target that we pointed out to you! On-center!" Last week, the girl had been taking requests – entertaining the younger kids around by aiming her weapons around the orphanage's training ground. Everything was exact. Everything was completely and utterly perfect. Even the blind spots got hit. "You even got the one behind the building! You're awesome!" A little bit of flattery (hero worship) doesn't hurt, though this _really _reminds Ron a bit too much of fourth year and Victor Krum (bastard).

"Well, I guess I'm not too bad." There's a pleased smile on her lips. Good.

His face freezes, and he hurriedly looks down. That's it. Act like the nervous little kid you are. "So… um…"

"Yeah?"

"Will you teach me?" Uzumaki blurts out. He flushes red, and this time, Ron's babbling. "Uh – I mean, you don't have to _teach me _teach me, but could you show me some tips? My kunai never hit on target…. a-and I… I kind of just – look, the last time I tried, my kunai ended up on the roof." He's not kidding. Not at all. The spare sets of kunai he collects misses the tree he was aiming for entirely and land haphazardly around the orphanage. Very. Much. So.

"...And... on the play-structure, and in the birdbath, and in the pond and I think I might have hit a squirrel - What's so funny?" he asks, because she's sniggering at this point. He sighs, hangs his head. "I'm really bad at this stuff, okay? And I'm starting the Academy next cycle, so I was wondering if-"

She cuts in with her laughs and agrees, waving off any form of payment he can give her. She says this would be funny enough to watch.

Ron scratches the back of his head self-consciously. He didn't think he looked _that _stupid.

* * *

A/N:

I didn't like this chapter. Urgh. Dialogue. _Dialogue kills me in this story. _Probably should have just left this until I thought it was _perfect, _but I'm pretty sure some of you would kill me if I ended up holding on to this for another month. I'll fix it up. Eventually. Sometime soon. Maybe. Argh, the point is, that if you click onto this chapter in two, three weeks, the latter half of it may or may not be completely different than what you see currently.

Not a lot happened in this chapter either. Nothing, damn it. Don't worry. Something will happen next chapter - YAY ACADEMY. Something to look forward to. Like... in ... about a month - I write slow, okay?

Anyway! Thank you for viewing/reviewing. Have I mentioned how amazing all of you are? Again, any reviews will probably be only given a response if there's a question. Because... I actually don't have much an opinion, and if there's no question, I'm pretty likely just to say thank you, thank you, thank you, and have little to no actual meaning there. Which I think is... fairly unpleasant.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or Harry Potter.

* * *

Ron breathes in, breathes out. He is calm. Uzumaki is calm. They are all calm. Right. He breathes in, breathes out. In, out. In, out.

In out in out in out in out god he's nearly on the point of hysteria. Who is he kidding? He's a ball of nerves. He's a giant, nervous ball of nervy nerves. This – this reminds him of the morning of his first Quidditch game. All panic and terror and screaming (though… he's probably imagining that. Probably) and, through it all, Harry trying to get Ron to eat his toast. Of course he'd be panicked – he threw the ball wrong, he never had complete control of his broom (he remembers floating _upsidedown _at one point), not the way Oliver Wood did, and he had the terrible sinking feeling that he'd only been chosen as Keeper because Charlie and Fred and George had been on it. Only because he was a Weasley, not because he was _Ron. _If he was the main character of – of a _book, _or something stupid like that, that would have been the point where he was supposed to have been proven wrong, where he was supposed to have the most amazing game ever.

But that…. that was a horrible Quidditch match. He had the pleasure of saying that was one of the worst Quidditch matches he'd ever seen in his entire life (_Weasley, he was born in a bin, he always lets the Quaffle in - _). Ever. Even with the Cannons (nothing wrong with the Cannons, not really, they weren't the best, but -) and that was saying something. The only way – _only way – _that match could have possibly been worse was if they replaced the brooms with flying spiders.

Flying…spiders.

Did they have those in this world? Did they have giant spiders? Did they –

Best not to think about that. Ever.

.

_The proper way to hold a kunai. He thinks he's gotten it figured out. There are lots of holds, and lots of ways to mess it up, but what you're supposed to do is grab the kunai the same way every time, for consistency. And throw it the same way every time. For consistency. He's not too good at that. And there are blisters and calluses on his hands, but according to Tenten, his aim is still… haphazard. _

_"Again."_

_Near the orphanage, there are a few trees the matron painted with bright red target circles specifically meant for Academy students. Uzumaki nods to himself and reaches down for his foraged kunai._

_ Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. _

_He winces. One kunai is just outside of an outer ring. Another is in the inner. The last misses the tree entirely and sticks in the ground._

_Tenten tsks, crosses her arms. "No good. Again." She flicks a kunai absentmindedly at one of the trees. To add insult to injury, it hits dead center. _

_He groans. He doesn't really think it's actually his _aim _that's wrong anymore. He thinks it's more the fact that he's been doing this for about five hours straight and his arm feels like it's going to fall off, which can't possibly be beneficial. "Why're you drilling me like this _now?" _he complains. _ _Thunk. Outer ring._ _He scowls. _"_What's wrong with the drill from last week?"_

_She flicks another kunai. Dead center again. "We're trying to get you ready for the test, y'see," she explains, her tone of voice patient and ever-so-slightly patronizing._

_"What test?" _

_. _

Most everyone gets tested before they enter the Academy. The test itself is optional, since a lot of it can be avoided if your guardians fill out and submit an evaluation file. But everyone takes it (at least all the orphans do, since the matron can only fill so many of those forms and she's not a ninja anyway, so her evaluation doesn't mean much), since you do get a sheet of paper telling you how well you did, what you should work on. Things you should really know if you want to be a shinobi. It's not about really passing or failing, since no matter how they do on it, they still get admitted. It's only a measure of skill. Only for teaching purposes and for your Academy file. It's not the end of the world if you do badly. Though it might as well be, since it's the big difference on whether your teacher looks at you and thinks 'you're a clever kid, you have potential' or 'I remember you, you're the idiot who missed your kunai target from one foot away.'

Ron fidgets. He has no idea _how _well he did.

It's a written test (evaluation, they call it, as if a longer word makes it any better), first, a long one, though interspersed with short breaks. It doesn't look hard at first. In large italics at the top is _answer what you can, leave blank what you don't, _and the first sheet of paper are simple yes and no questions with checkboxes – are you civilian-born, have you any prior experience with weapons, would you say you know a lot about shinobi, are you physically fit. Things like that. The next part is slightly more personal – how much do you exercise per week, what kind of exercise, what is your body type, what kind of experience do you have with medicine. But very much doable.

And then Uzumaki looks over the rest of the test and he panics. He panics because he doesn't know half the material on there. He's not _entirely _sure what a jutsu is, or what sticking a leaf to your forehead is supposed to do. He doesn't know who started the First Shinobi War or what exactly was the founding of Konohagakure no Sato. He knows a little bit of first aid, but anything beyond that is far, far beyond him. He thinks he answers a few of the plant questions correctly (is this poisonous or not, medical or not), and he's almost entirely sure reading comprehension and math is all good. But at least half of that test, when he finishes, is completely and utterly blank.

Next is the practical examination – basic pushups and situps and running, and then an individual showing of skills. He knows he outran a lot of the other students (he _knew_ he'd be great at that running thing when he was older), and his weapon handling was all right (thank you, Tenten). But his taijutsu is rough.

At the orphanage, Inaka Shun is the best at taijutsu.

.

The surname 'Inaka' marks Shun as _orphan_ and maybe even _bastard _to the village_, _since it's the generic one that the orphanage gives to all of its nameless, to all of those that are either unknown or dropped off as a result of an affair. The matron always offers to change it before any official schooling begins, so that there's no real record of it, but he remembers that Inaka Shun refused it – he wears his status proudly like a badge.

_"I grew up being Inaka, and Inaka I'll stay. So what if Inaka means bastard? If I'm a bastard, I'm a bastard. I'm Inaka. That's that."_

(He's not the only one, either.)

Ron – Uzumaki – respects that. He's not sure he could do the same, and inwardly, he thinks he's very lucky that he came with a surname at all.

.

Though he's willing to teach, Shun shakes his head at Uzumaki and admits he's no good at it. He gives Uzumaki a few tips, but Ron knows he fights more like a brawler than anything like a trained ninja. He has no ninjutsu, either, since a lot of jutsu is sealed away from civilians (though he's sure the clan-born have been taught by their families. It almost reminds him of that rule Hermione always fumed about – how none of the muggleborn could practice over summer break because of the Trace, but halfbloods and purebloods were given almost completely free reign as long as they had a magical parent around), and has no idea what the examiner means when he is asked to demonstrate some sort of chakra control.

Finally, it's over and Examiner 6C gives Uzumaki a fake, pasted on smile that says he's tired and he just wants _all of it_ to be over. "Civilian-born?" he asks, and when Uzumaki nods (everyone in the orphanage is assumed to be civilian-born), he presses a thick pamphlet in his hands and waves him off. "You're free to go," he says wearily, and Uzumaki nods and grins and scurries out and tells the confident-looking blonde girl next in line 6C to come in.

.

On the cover of the pamphlet -

_Congratulations! You are a student of the Academy!_

There's a small pencil sketch – a rooftop view sketch of the Academy. Inside cover, brief Academy history, sketch of the Hokage monument, sketch of the current Hokage. _We thank you for your service to the village and sincerely hope you prosper in our institution of –_

Ron stares at the page for a while, then stuffs the entire thing in his pocket. He'll read it later.

_._

Three years ago, he was a pre-Academy examiner and teacher's assistant. Two years ago, he was a pre-Academy examiner and teacher's assistant. Last year, he was a pre-Academy examiner and teacher's assistant.

But now – now they've decided to trust him with his own class. He has a partner, of course, all chunin instructors. But this! His own class! Class 3B this year, which was a pretty nice classroom, if he did say so himself. He knows that it's not really his _own _class. After all, his teaching partner has three more years of experience and would probably dominate the way the children are being taught. But still – still! Officially, on paper, it is his class, his _first _class, and he's going to teach people and they will be amazing. He flicks through the list of students. Some names stand out sharply on the list. Aburame… Akamichi…Hyuuga… Inu… shit, does he have all the clan kids in this class? He looks over at Akamine Rin's list – Class 3A. Civilian, civilian, civilian… He groans. It's true, isn't it? He spots a few civilian clan names on his list, and there are some orphans, too, but in the end, he's stuck with all the big-name clans. No, it's accurate to say that he's stuck with all the clans – he sees a small one known for its medics, and a few genjutsu type as wall. Sighing, he scrolls down the list again. Ooh, the Uchiha, too, and…

…Ah. He'd almost forgotten.

He had Uzumaki Naruto. That was…

He refused to think it. The brat. No. The Brat. Yes, that seemed better. He already knew that, of course, since he did get sent to the orphanages to talk about who would be signing up. It was the… which orphanage was it… Hinansho. Right, that one. He had been ever so slightly horrified when he knew that the Brat was going to sign up – no, that he already signed up. The matron – what was her name? Ta… Tachibana-san, yes. She had said that the Brat actually was very well behaved, oddly enough. Very obedient child, if a bit of a loner.

Of course the Brat would be a loner. Maybe the other kids could sense the – He puts down his clipboard. The container is not the same as the demon. Not the same. Hokage-sama had said so. It could be true, however, that the demon could have… influenced the child. The Brat. He'd have to keep a close watch on him. Until then, be fair, impartial. Friendly, since a complete lack of friendliness will not be taken well by civilians, but not so much so that it looks like brownnosing for the clan members. Neutral. Like a chunin instructor should be.

He really hopes he won't screw this up.

.

_Please do not buy any supplies until a week into term, as your chunin instructor may have specific requirements. He or she will provide a syllabus. _

_For first years, we ask that our students carry a standard beginner set of kunai, which is approximately fifteen pieces, depending on the store you purchase them from. We do hope these are wooden. Yes, we do allow our students to carry metal kunai, but your child will most likely not be using them until later in the year. You may buy these now, but your chunin instructor will inform you when it is time to make the switch. Until then, it is the Academy beginner's set of kunai, which is wooden with a core of iron. Please buy a whetstone for your kunai, and keep them in good condition. If you do not know how to use a whetstone, please ask your chunin instructor – he will most likely know the time and class where we hold civilian-born sessions, which you may want to attend for additional information that is not included in this pamphlet._

_We recommend Nakami-ken for standard supplies. Nakami-ken is familiar with us and our requirements, and has fairly inexpensive stock of good quality – very good for under-year students. For upper-year students, the Sealed Kunai is more expensive, but also more specialized, with a greater variety of goods of very fine quality. Under-year students – please do not buy from the Sealed Kunai unless your skill has been approved by your chunin instructor. And remember to bring your Academy ID. _

.

To be honest, Ron never really liked cameras. Photographs were all well and good, but actually taking the photo was… somewhat painful. Especially if you weren't expecting it and got a nice eyeful of blinding, flashing light. That was sort of the reason why he never really liked Colin Creevey (pictures, pictures, always more pictures in second year… and then he joined the DA, and then he ended up dying in the Battle of Hogwarts and Ron writes his name on the list of people he needs to honor).

Flash. The photographer, a woman with bushy hair and a pair of thin glasses, tsks. "No. Don't slouch like that. Stand up straight, open your eyes. Just don't have them shut. Yes – there, that's it. Make your most serious face."

Now, cameras are nostalgic. He hasn't seen any of them in such a long time (he hasn't seen much of anything, to be honest).

Flash.

"There we go, was that so hard?" smiles the photographer. "Here's your ID, please don't touch the picture for the next minute or you'll smudge the ink, replacements will not be offered until the start of the autumn cycle this year. Now, next!"

Ron stares at Uzumaki's ID. The first thing that occurs to him is that it doesn't look anything like him. It looks nothing like Ron Weasley (of course it wouldn't, he hasn't looked like himself in a while). It doesn't look like Uzumaki either – it's so expressionless it looks wrong.

He smiles harder today to make up for it.

.

_Please wear clothes that you would not mind getting damaged. While you will not suffer any major injuries, you will have a certain amount of wear and tear on your clothing, as a shinobi-in-training should. We have an extensive amount of physical activity, so please keep that in mind when you pick out your clothes – something that you will not mind sweating in or having a large amount of movement in. If you must, ask your nearest clothing store if they have shinobi-friendly clothing. They will most likely have it. _

_Mesh clothing – clothing made out of ninja wire and woven along with clothing to form armor. We recommend that you have at least one set. Not sold in civilian stores. _

_Ninja sandals – not to be confused with civilian sandals, which are far less practical. Not required, but helpful, as they wick away sweat and have a harder sole than most shoes do, preventing quite a lot of injury. They also tend to be more durable, and strap securely around the ankles. Boots can be used. However, they are both less comfortable and more heavy, which hampers movement. Please keep this in mind. _

.

Today, the matron wakes them an hour earlier than usual with a scowl on her face and faint shadows under her eyes. She tells them that today is the Opening Ceremony (he hears her grumble that she's responsible for dragging all of the brats there) and shoves clothes in their faces and tells them to get dressed. Uzumaki quickly pulls them on (they're really nice – a shirt that's only a size larger than him and a pair of shorts that are only slightly baggy, and both of them look almost new). At least it's better than a few weeks ago. A few weeks ago had been _testing. _Testing was not fun.

The matron mutters under her breath and organizes the rest of the orphanage staff together before marching out, a trail of children behind her (Uzumaki included), to the Academy. They're quickly ushered off, to stand in a long row of children as the Hokage walks by and smile genially. He talks about protecting the Will of Fire and the village and Uzumaki listens intently. At least he seems to be. Ron thinks it sounds a lot like Dumbledore's opening speeches at Hogwarts and that it's missing something important.

But then the Hokage, with a solemn look, calls out each of the children and asks if they will accept the Shinobi's Oath.

.

_"I dunno. I kinda remember that ceremony… yeah, I sorta zoned out for a lot of it, y'know? But… then that last part… yeah, Hokage-sama got all serious there…"_

.

Ron supposes that, if he really wanted to, he could make a scene out of himself and quit. He could, really, he could. Does he really want to do this? Does he really want to tempt fate and try and see what'll happen? Does he really want to see if the dream really can come true?

Pfft. Of course he does. Why does he bother asking?

He raises his hands, twists them into a strange form of salute that is theirs. He's a Gryffindor. Of course he will. Of course he won't back down. Of course he'll tempt fate. Of course he'll do anything in his power to fuck himself over. Because maybe the dream will collapse on him, and maybe the test will fail, but Gryffindors are brave, reckless, and don't have a survival instinct worth a damn. Exactly like him. And he's too full of pride and memories to change that.

Besides, it's not like he was actually considering quitting. Just stupid thoughts passing through his head at the oddest of times. He's no coward.

Just Gryffindor through and through.

.

Ron debates it carefully, before he decides that keeping it private is not worth the price of it being forgotten. There's a little girl, a few years younger than Uzumaki that almost always ends up sitting next to him during mealtimes. They barely know each other's names, but they get along well enough. One thing he does know is that she likes plants and growing things.

He asks her to take care of his small garden in the woods when he can't. Since he won't be able to run around all day anymore.

She looks at him questioningly, but agrees.

.

The day before he goes to the Academy, he gets a sheet of paper. It tells him he's horrible and he really needs more practice and that his skill really isn't very adequate and is full of little tips and things he needs to do. He expects that – against the clan-born standards and practices, he really doesn't have much. But at the very bottom:

_Ranking for Uzumaki Naruto – 37 of 60._

When you really thought about it, it really wasn't that bad. His lips curve in a half-smile and break into a grin.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

.

He still does the flowers for the Memorial Stone by himself. He'll just have to come there less often. Once a month instead of every few weeks. He won't forget.

.

Uzumaki gets up and eats a good breakfast, and puts a lunch in his bag. He joins a long line of the orphanage students who all troop to the Academy. He makes his way into Classroom 3B. It's big and airy, and as the seats get farther back, they get higher. He doesn't really get the point of that, but he climbs the stairs to the back of the class anyway and settles in.

(_"That's where you wanna sit, y'know. It's really high, so you can see everything, and nothing's behind you. You don't want anything behind you. That's bad. You'll understand when you get there.")_

He pulls out an old copy of an Academy textbook that the matron always provides and looks over the room. Children screech and laugh and spit out little wads of paper, and there, Uzumaki doesn't stick out at all. He is normal. And as Uzumaki excitedly talks to the boy with the hair sticking up in the back, gesturing wildly, Ron closes his eyes. If he filters through the babble, it's almost like English. It's almost something familiar and nostalgic. Almost like Hogwarts, almost like the boy listening intently to him is curious little Harry, almost like the pair of girls giggling to each other a few rows down is Parvati and Lavender before the war. Almost like he never left. Almost like first year.

It's almost like home.

* * *

Remember how I said this chapter was supposed to be the Academy? Yeah, I lied. Bummer.

At least I got to it at all - couldn't find a good place to _end _it, but I think it's not bad.

So, annabelle - yeah, I totally got it in a month. Technically, I mean, if I really wanted it to be an actual month, it would've been on the 19th, but I'm not that good, so I'm just happy I at least got it in July. Whoo! Something vaguely resembling a time-schedule, yeah!

Anyway - this is a very common question I've gotten, so! Yes, I will have other characters reincarnated here. It's just a too interesting concept for me to just leave it as one person.

So, yuusuke, there's a chance of that happening. Not sure if I'll actually do it, but it's possible. Sounds pretty awesome, though.

Sorry, mayyz1, but I... really don't have much self-control when it comes to things like these. I promise to not make them take over the story. I'll make a decent effort, anyway.

Notes:

1. 'Cycles' – I don't remember which fanfiction I got the idea from (please tell me if you recognize it, because this certainly isn't _my _idea), but here, there are two different groups of children, one who start school in the spring, and the other who start school in fall. This is to effectively pump out more new genin each year.

2. I don't speak Japanese. The closest I have to Japanese is the honorific system, which I've kinda gotten worked out, and the Google translator, and I know that's shit if you actually wanted a proper translation. I assume it works for single words, which is why you still see Japanese words here. But Nakami-ken is _not proper Japanese at all. _At least, I don't think it is. I just needed a good name. If it really bugs you, feel free to suggest another name, but that store most likely won't be mentioned past this chapter.


End file.
